Ramble On
by Zimothy
Summary: Short writings of various length about various things. CH3: Panic Attacks
1. College

**A/N: This is what I do when I'm drunk. I write crappy fanfiction:**

Castiel was pretty sure he'd had a few too many hits from the joint by now. Either that, or the alchohol was getting to him. I mean, it was bad enough that Dean was already hot pre-inebriants, but this was just torture. Dean's lips curling around that cigarette, playing with the smoke before each exhale. Castiel knew that Jimmy was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't be bothered to even look at the other man in lieu of tearing his gaze away from how Dean's mouth moved with each word, teeth flashing in well-placed smile.

The worst part about it had to be whenever Dean decided he needed to cross the threshold of Jimmy and Castiel's legs - which were knee to knee across from one another. The younger teen made a huge show about it, stomach parallel to Castiel's face as he straddled the other man's thighs in an attempt to grab the bottle of rum that was sitting on the table.

The gesture in itself would have been completely innocent - if Jimmy hadn't caught onto Castiel's crush _months_ ago. Castiel already knew is brother wasn't fit to drive, and this fact was even moreso solidified whenever the younger twin laughed and shoved Dean's ass - causing Dean to jerk his hips towards Castiel's face. Rolling with the joke, Dean faked a woman's orgasm for a split second and then grabbed Castiel's shoulder to steady himself.

Instead of moving, however, Dean glanced down at Cas and smiled. "How you doin'?" He joked. Castiel quickly tore his hand from where it had flown to Dean's thigh to steady the other man, and he grinned weakly.

"Must we meet like this every time?" He joked back. Dean laughed, grabbed the rum, and sat back down.

Castiel hunched lower in his seat and wished he had more balls to say something else.

* * *

><p>Castiel refreshed his facebook. again. for the fifth time. Why? Why was he doing this obsessively? He'd just left Dean a comment that could make or break their fucking friendship, that's why. What else could it be after posting a rather lewd comment on the man's display picture of himself - SHIRTLESS- at the damn beach. How else could he play off the fact that he, himself, was in the background, BLATANTLY staring at Dean's ass?<p>

_'What a fine companion you have there, though his eyes aren't on the camera. I wonder why.' _What the fuck kind of comment was that? Castiel regretted it the moment he'd finalized the comment. His finger was lurking the small 'x' needed to delete the comment but the damage was done. Dean would get the notification no matter what, and query where the note had gone if Castiel deleted it.

Castiel buried his face into his hands, chest tight with anticipation. He glanced up again to see a response in his notification box and attacked his mouse with a fury to click it.

_'Buns of steel, man. How can you not look? B^)'_

_What the fuck kind of comment was THAT_. Castiel stared, trying to comprehend what Dean could have been thinking. What could have possibly crossed his completely HETEROSEXUAL friend's mind to flirt back? Was this even flirting? Was this what Dean called 'dicking around'?

Castiel groaned and pushed himself back and away from the computer.

Facebook was far too stressful.

* * *

><p>"So what, are you bi or something?"<p>

Castiel wasn't the one who asked it, but he was on edge about the answer already. Sure, Dean had just gotten over his fling with Lisa Braeden, (Castiel would call their relationship nothing more than a 'fling' because the woman obviously wasn't good enough for Dean Winchester.) but the man had been making flirtatious passes at anything with two legs.

Dean scoffed, scooching back in his chair and nursing his beer with a shrug. "I donno. I don't think so. Most guys aren't hot. Just a few - like Brad Pitt. That man is someone I'd go gay for in a heartbeat..."

Castiel felt his heart sink, staring down at his own can of cheap beer. A battle with Brad Pitt was something that he couldn't fathom winning - no matter how muscular Castiel got. Brad Pitt was the god of sexy men, Castiel was not. Castiel was the god of sitting awkwardly in a corner of the room and laughing at bad jokes while failing to contribute his own.

Cas fiddled with the tab of his beer, bending it back and forth until it broke off. He tossed it in the trash bin and looked up to lock eyes with Dean. Confusion struck the older man and he tilted his head to the side in query. Dean looked away with a soft laugh and shook his head.

Now Castiel was all sorts of confused. He didn't like random laughs without purpose - they drove him insane. If you were going to laugh about something to yourself, you'd better share with the damn class.

Castiel leaned back into his seat and watched Chuck go through his fifth beer like it was a bottle of water. For such a tiny man, Chuck was probably the biggest heavyweight out of all of them when it came to drinking. Castiel took a sip from his beer and glanced over to see Dean watching him again.

Now it was just getting annoying, and it was getting Castiel's hopes up and he for damn sure didn't like that. Castiel _hated_ getting excited over nothing. Getting someone's hopes up was the worst thing a man could do to a person. Castiel was proud to say he was a pessimist, because setting yourself up for disappointment was a sure-fire way not to get your hopes shattered when things didn't work out how you wanted them to.

Castiel tore his gaze away from Dean's knee to stare into his beer can, fingering the mouth of it thoughtfully.

* * *

><p>Okay, he was pretty sure that last drink had been the one to do him in. Far too dizzy and disoriented to deal with the general populace (which equated to everyone surrounding the giant bonfire and nearby areas of Dean's birthday party) Castiel had decided that the space between the television and coffee table was the perfect place to lay down and enjoy the sensation of being completely shitfaced drunk.<p>

There was a hand on his stomach, rubbing up and down and up again. Castiel cracked an eye open at the warm sensation to see Dean hunched down next to him, rubbing Castiel's belly like he was some fucking dog.

"You okay, man?" Dean asked, though his words were the slightest bit slurred. Castiel grinned crookedly up at his friend, reaching out without a second thought and holding Dean's hand against his hip.

"I'm great. " He chirped, eyes crossing for a moment. Dean laughed, giving Castiel's hip a squeeze and leaning forward. Castiel had no time to react when his friend placed a sloppy kiss againsst his brow before the man leaned back to wander back out to his party.

Castiel lay against the floor, closing his eyes and replaying the feeling of Dean's fingers against his stomach over and over again


	2. Wings

Castiel's wings were giant - a good three times the size that Dean had thought they'd be. Of course, all Dean had seen of them previously was a shadow that had been cast across an old and battered barn house. Now, however, Dean had to physically stop himself from stepping away from the angel and gaping.

His wings were blue, but not in-your-face blue (for that, Dean was grateful. He wanted to take this moment seriously). It was like seeing the sky captured in each feather, with mottled clouds dusting along the very tips and across the bone. Castiel shifted, tilting his head to the side and watching Dean with scrutiny. His naked shoulders were tense, waiting for the response. Dean cleared his throat, suddenly feeling far too underdressed for the occasion. He stepped forward, reaching out for the nearest wing.

Instead of reaching his wing out, Castiel jerked it back - eyes wide with surprise. Dean shrugged, "I thought they'd be soft... like a bird, right?"

Castiel's wing slowly lowered from its defensive position and the angel scowled. "I'm not a bird, Dean." He said. Dean laughed weakly and shrugged.

"I wasn't saying you were a bird, I just meant - nevermind."

Castiel may have been hiding a smile at that point, as his wing inched closer to Dean, feathers brushing against the human's knuckles. Dean brought his hand up to stroke a finger down one of the flight feathers, eyes never once leaving Castiel's.

"They're not an erogenous zone, Dean. They're wings." Castiel rumbled, somehow having read Dean's thought in an instant. Dean laughed softly and gave the angel a one-shouldered shrug.

"Hey man, you never know."

Castiel hummed in response, turning around so that Dean could see where the wings connected into Castiel's back. It wasn't really a connection, so much as fading into skin.

"The glands, however. are."


	3. Panic

It hit Castiel as sudden as a slap to the face. One minute, he's fine doing his homework and ignoring Dean on the other side of the room channel-flipping and then the next, he can't breathe and every heartbeat feels forced.

Castiel placed his pencil down, breathing in a deep, shuddering breath and letting it out slowly. He stood, one hand rising to rub nervously at his chest and will the breathe back into it. He felt trapped, the walls too small and the air too thin. Anxiety clawed through him like some kind of uncontrollable monster, throwing Castiel off enough that he had to sit back down in his chair at the sudden wave of fatigue that overcame him. He felt like he needed to escape, but at the same time his body was more tired in those few moments than he had been all day.

Dean seemed to notice Castiel's awkward shift from sitting to standing, back to sitting. He put the television on mute, glancing over to his dormmate.

"You okay, Cas?" He asked warily. Castiel huffed in a gasp of air, waving Dean off.

"I'm fine. Just nerves, is all." Castiel muttered, staring up at the ceiling fan and watching it rotate, willing his sudden nervousness to go away. Dean, however, had heard the same response from Castiel one too many times, and was apparently an observant roommate. He set his remote down, standing up and going to open the windows.

Castiel turned to press his head into his arms, focusing on the sound of his own breathing and trying not to get too lightheaded from it. He jumped when Dean pressed a hand against his shoulder.

"Dude, maybe you should go on the balcony." He offered quietly, gesturing to the sliding glass door that lead to a small 5x3 balcony. Castiel sucked in another breath, wanting to just curl up in his bed and hide until the pain in his chest was gone.

Dean, however, had different plans.

"Come on, man. You need some fresh air." Dean urged, putting his hands under Castiel's armpits and bodily hefting his roommate up and out of the chair. Castiel made a beeline for the patio area, instantly flopping down in the one chair and trying to regain control over his breathing. Dean hovered in the doorway, watching Castiel and making the man even more nervous than he was before.

"You gotta stop stressing about your work, man." Dean murmured softly. "Getting panic attacks from your homework isn't normal."

Castiel ignored Dean's lecturing in favor of watching a few squirrels chase each other around the trees that littered the back of their dorm.

"Cas, ignoring it isn't gonna make it stop." Dean barked. Castiel pressed a hand to his forehead, scowling.

"I know that, Dean. I also know that medication would be the ideal substance in dealing with these." He groused. Dean seemed to be thrown off for a second, but stepped all the way out on to the balcony to watch the squirrels that had captured Castiel's attention.

"Hey man, I'm not really big on pills. I'm just saying, maybe you should try meditation or reading a book to help calm you down. Its like... you're in pain, dude. I don't wanna see you hurting when I can help."

Castiel gave a half chuckle, though it broke off into another huff for air. "Its not that simple, Dean."

Dean's face took on a lost expression and the younger man shoved his hands into his pockets. "Well, I don't know how I can help you, and I can't ignore it 'cause that's not what I do. So cut me some slack, man."

Castiel withdrew his hand from where it had been massaging his temple and lutched at his chest, huffing out another breath. "My sister used to hug me when I was younger. That usually helped." He confessed weakly, almost afraid of Dean's reaction. Heaven knew Castiel harbored the biggest among huge crushes on Dean, but Dean was far from ever discovering that bit of information.

Dean seemed to process the information for a bit before shrugging his shoulders. "Makes sense... so should I hug you more? Or just when you have these uh... attacks?"

Castiel shrugged, leaning forward to rest his forehead against his knees. "I don't know." He muttered miserably. Dean didn't move for a moment, but then knelt on the ground beside Castiel's chair.

Dean slid one arm along Castiel's back and barely had time to react before Cas's arms were around his neck and squeezing into the back of his shirt as tightly as possible. Dean jerked, but settled soon enough, running a hand up and down Castiel's spine.

"Its cool man, chill out." He soothed, "Breathe in, breathe out."

Castiel's breath stuttered for a moment before falling in synch with Dean's own steady inhale and exhale. Dean slowly pulled Castiel out of his chair while leaning back to sit with crossed legs. Castiel made a move to pull back, an apology ready on his lips, but Dean seemed to have other ideas when he pulled Castiel into his lap and shifting them so that Cas was practically being cradled.

It felt suffocating, and Cas couldn't stop his breathing from picking up into another erratic struggle for air. Dean wasn't supposed to do this, wasn't supposed to break that unspoken barrier between male friends. He was in unknown territory without a flashlight or a weapon to defend himself with.

"Stop wigging out, Cas." Dean muttered from where he'd rested his chin on Cas's head, the older student practically curled into his embrace. Dean tightened his grip on Castiel's shoulders, grounding him without even meaning to.

"You'll get your work done in time, don't worry. You're like, the smartest guy I've ever met - besides Sammy... and honestly I think you might be smarter than him, sometimes. At least, you know more languages than he does. And you're not a whiny bitch about stuff like he is." This last part, Dean muttered in a petulant tone that had Castiel huffing out a small laugh. Dean squeezed his arm in response and continued to ramble.

"I mean, he and my dad used to fight all the time, man. It was like Armageddon in the living room. Me and mom would go out to lunch or to the store just to get out. In a way, I was kinda cool with them fighting because it was like the only time I got alone with mom, you know? Well.. I guess you don't because y'know..." Dean trailed off awkwardly and Castiel knew he was trying to avoid the fact that the Angood family lacked a maternal figure entirely.

Castiel shifted, nervously bringing a hand up to place it against Dean's wrist - which still clutched to his bicep.

"Its fine, Dean." He rumbled weakly, torn between leaving the other man's embrace or staying until Dean initiated separation. Castiel took a deep, lung-widening breath that had his chest aching afterwards and exhaled slowly.

Nothing was said for another few seconds as Castiel's breathing slowed and and deepend to something more controlled - more natural.

Dean started to hum, one hand sliding to rub slow circles across Castiel's back. Castiel hoped to whatever higher power there was that neither of their brothers were to see them sitting on the patio - two grown men cuddling like infants.

Dean started to sing softly under his breath, "I'm looking out for the two of us... and I hope we'll be here when they're through with us. I'm coming home..."

Castiel pulled his head out from where it had been tucked under Dean's. "Foreigner? Really?"

Dean grinned, shrugging halfheartedly and letting his arms drop from around Castiel's body. "It seemed like a good idea at the time?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, witholding a grin and clambering out of Dean's lap, reaching for the patio door to head back inside.

"Aw, come on, Cas!" Dean whine, following him inside. "You're as cold as ice, man!"

Castiel paused, turning to look at Dean over his shoulder. "Dean.." He began in a low rumble. Dean stopped, staring at Castiel and waiting patiently for his response. (for once)

Cas turned all the way around, stepping up into Dean's personal space, his heart already starting to race. "I'm willing to sacrifice our love." He muttered softly, seriously.

Dean burst out laughing.


End file.
